# LIBRARY OF CONGRESS*' 

I : •• ! 

||liap. . flopmiai.t ^o J 

J UNITED STATES OF AMBEICA. J 



THE 



CHRISTMAS TREE, 



A N I > 



OTHER POEMS. 



IE 1 . IMI. RAY. 









to 



#0; 



PORTLAND, MK: 

DRES8KR, McLELLAN & t < ).. 
47 BXCBAXQK STREET, 

1874. 



•IK 






Entered according to Aet of Congress, in the year 187:?, l>y 

F. M. KAY, 
in the office of the Librarian of Congress -\\ Washington. 



Daily Tress Printing House, Portland, Me M 
Wm. Iff. Marks, Manager. 



To A'lbebt B. Otis, Esquibe, 

of Boston, Mass., 
In fulfilment of a promisi modi /,, school 
day 8, (with far mor< seriousness, however, than 
teas to be confessed at the time,) this little volurm 
is affectionately inscribed by his sincen friend, 

The Author. 



CONTENTS. 



The Christmas Tree. pake. 

Christmas Eve, R 

The Beggar Girl, 10 

The Lovers, 11 

The Wedding, 12 

Caste h'» 

Story of a Dew* Drop 19 

The Sea 20 

On Loch Katrine, 21 

To My Countrymen, l>:; 

Evening in the Pays de Valid, 24 

In the Champs Elysees 26 

Stanzas Suggested by the War 29 

Kest, :n 



6 CONTENTS. 

Our Deai>. — Memorial Sonnets. pagk. 

Nelson Perley Cram. 3. r > 

Samuel Fessenden, 36 

John Rich, :<7 

William Wilson Morrell. 38 

TBAHSLATIONa 

Down Yonder in the Mill, 41 

The Loreley, 42 

Song of the Young Mountaineer 43 

The Resolve 4 4 

A Reminiscence 4J5 



THE CHRISTMAS TREE. 



The CltrivStnias Tree. 



i. 

CHRISTMAS EVE. 

The stars are bright in the wintry sky, 
And the wind is cold, oh, piercing cold ! 
Hut the Christmas bells chime merrily 
l^p in the belfry brown and old. 

And cheerily <>n the high church walls, 

From vaulted roof to nave below, 
A brilliant light from the gasjets falls 

And tills the room with a midday glow. 

Anon, with bright and beaming eyes, 

The rosy children crowd the aisles. 
And quick expectant pleasure Hies 
To wreathe each dimpled month with smiles. 

For wondrous sights they soon have seen 
Which fill their childish hearts with glee, 
Amid the branches, emerald green, 
Of yonder heavy laden tree. 



10 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. 

And little lips have lisped, no doubt, 
u On earth peace, good Avill toward men ;" 
Perchance have guessed the meaning out 
So oft obscured to older ken. 

Xo cares to vex, their hearts are light 
In parents' constant love secure ; 
Their eyes are bright with true delight, 
For Santa (Mans is coming sure. 

True innocence maketh all hearts light ; 
But innocent eves look strange and wild ; 
And they arc 1 the eyes surpassingly bright 
Of that little waif, the beggar child. 

Who hath climbed a fence in the wintry air. 
And is looking in at a window high, 
While a child within, who sees her there, 
Js asking its mother if angels are nigh. 



II. 

INK BEGGAB GIKL. 

Through many and many a weary day 
She'd begged her bread from door to door 
But her childish heart had kept at bay 
The cares that prey on the grown-up poor. 



THE CHRISTMAS TREE. 1 1 

And clad in rags that the wind blew through 
She'd trod, thin shod, on pavements stark. 
And naught of home or luxury knew. 
Except from glances stolen through 
The windows bright, when the nights were 
dark. 



111. 
I UK LOVKRtf. 

A youth high born and the village belle 
To-morrow will wed, — on Christmas day ; 
A courtship brief, but they love full well, — 
"A heaven-made match," says the beau-mondi 
gay. 

High hopes arc lavished, and prodigal gold, 
On the millionnaire's luxurious son ; 
But lips now hushed in the church-yard mould 
Will never more tell of the wrongs he hath 

done : 

At least to the world that tenderly deals 
With the sins of a man because they are human, 
But the holiest horror instinctively feels 
For his fellow sinner, too credulous woman ! 



12 THE CHRISTMAS TREK. 

Oh Christian folk who on Christmas eve 
In the book of life your good deeds write, 
Must not the Pharisees surely grieve 
The Lord who loveth the true and right? 

The Lord of the just, whose natal morn 
The joyous bells are ringing in ; — 
Mild Mary's son, in manger horn, 
Who loved the world though lost in sin. 



IV. 
Ill i: WEDDING. 

Again his round hath Phcebus gone. 
And wedding hells were rung to-day ; 
Two hearts were joined, two souls made one 
By words we heard the Rector say. 

Fair orange flowers in the bride's bright hair 
May have startled a conscience now and then; 

But the bridegroom thought they were right- 
fully there, 
And esteemed himself most happy of men. 

Bui when they came out from the high church 

door, 
A little girl in her tattered gown 



THE CHBI8TMA8 TREE. 13 

Was standing near by, and ran before. 

As the crowd fell back to let them pass down. 

And some there were about the door 

Who marked that her eyes and mouth were 

the same 
As the man's who rode with hi- coach ami four, 
Resembling hi- mother, a stately dame. 

And that stately dame herself that day. 
When the beggar girl looked up and smiled 
At the wedding guests, ;i- they rode away. 
Wondered when- else -he had seen the child. 

For a single glance at that little brown face 

Her memory puzzled almost to pain : 

But the thread of the mystery she ne'er could 

trace, 
Although she essayed it again and again. 

And although her pride would have scorned 
the thought 

That the being in rags was her own proud 

blood. 
She sent her footman and had her brought 
To be clothed with new clothes and fed with 

Sood food. 



1± THE CHRISTMAS TREE. 

For a kindly spot is in every heart, — 
Whether by sinner or saint possessed, 
And high and low must bear their part 
To lighten the cares of those distressed. 

And surely gospel truths if strown 

By the winds of chance in fallow souls. 

The Lord will never refuse to own 

Who, by constant laws, e'en chance controls. 

So we will hope that our new-wed pair 
May many a merry Christmas see, 
And children's children with them share 
The love that blooms on the Christmas tree. 

For we ne'er may right a social wrong 
By waste of breath or weak complaining, 

Or humble the proud and subdue the strong 
By more than mortal goodness feigning. 

There's an eastern adage reflects our faith, 
And J trust for profit will never fail, 
As its words of wisdom it tersely saith : 
"The truth is mighty and will prevail.' 1 



CASTE. 

Beauteous rnermaiden, 

Child of the emerald sea ! 
Comest with pearls ladeu 

Forth from the surging sea ; 
Glisten in thy dripping locks 

Myriad salt-beads, crystalline; 
Like a vision of love thou risest 

Forth from the ocean green. 

Tell me, oh mermaid, where is thy hom< 
F<>r the ocean is deep and extendeth far, 

And years o'er its breast the sailor may roam, 
Till his locks are white as the wave-crests are. 

"Look, oh poet, out over the sea 

"Where those lone rocks pierce the tide, 
"Lashed by the billows incessantly, 
••Which rise and fall on the ocean wide. 
••Dec]*, deep at the foot of that treacherous ledge, 

-In the hulk of a wreck is the merman's home. 
"When the wind is still, t<> the water's edge 

The masts <>t* the shipwrecked vessel come; 
"And the pennon that once in the proud breeze 
rode, 

"Telling her name to the passing day, 
"Now marks the mariner's last abode, 

"Ten fathoms in water long left to decay! 



16 



CASTE. 



"The merman old, many children hath he, 
"And is proud of us all as parent can be ; 
"And all are wedded, well wedded, but me. 

"But I, unfortunate, ventured to love 
"Where love could ne'er requited be: 

"Madly I ventured to look above 
"My kith and kindred of the sea : 

"And now I'm doomed to a lonely life 

"Who might have been a merman's wife!" 

Once, dear reader, in the leafy June, 
When the song-bird sings his sweetest tune. 

To the sea-side a pale painter came, — 

Save that on his cheek a spot like flame 
And his own madders glowed each afternoon. 

The morning lie was pale as death. 
And a dry cough told how soon 

Must cease his feeble breath : 
But in his dee]) dark eye that brighter grew 
As nearer to a close his frail life drew, 

Were wealth of soul and gentleness of heart, 

Making his lips witli a holy smile to part. 
Each morn lie spread his palette with the hues 
That nature wore when fresh with early dews ; 

And on the hill-side near a lovely cove. 
Backgrounded by a woodland green, 

Till sultry noon, unceasingly he strove 
To animate his canvas with the scene. 



CASTE. 



V 



But when the sun was in his midday glow, 
Beneath a goodly maple's mellow shade 

Would our wan and weary painter go, 

Where of the boughs and moss some hand 
had made 

A rustic seat alluring him to rest. 

There, from a pocket 'neath his vest. 
He'd take a much worn hook and read, 
(riving it an hour of undivided heed. 

Bui when lie had restored it to its wonted place. 

And a smile of holy joy lit up his face. 
He remembered aught more precious still, 
And suddenly with tears his eyes would till. 

And the mermaid under the summer sea. 

To whom all human things were mystery. 
Knew not it was a simple picture case 
Wherein only the limner light did trace 
The semblance of a stately woman's face. 

Relieved by flaxen tresses, beauteous ami soft. 

Around a head by pride just raised aloft. 
The mermaid saw with tender sympathy. 
From her lurking place beneath the sea. 

How his eyes brimmed o'er with tears, 
Responsive to his nameless grief. 
Till his soul yielded to their sweet relief, — 

For mercy's angels are those holy tears ! — 

But though her sorrows were than his more 
deep, 



18 CASTE. 

The little mermaid never dared to weep ; 
For by the laws of merman life, who weeps 

must die ! 
And with that soulless race there is no life on high. 

Till autumn came, the painter wrought and read. 
And with his life, his hopeless sorrow fed : 

But when his work was well nigh done. 
And the forest's first ripe leaves were red. 

And toward the winter solstice sank the sun. 
The painter weaker grew ami died. 

And there was made for him a grave 
(lose by the ever surging ocean's side. 

And his requiem sang the tuneful wave 1 

Oh, unnatural and remorseless Fate! 

Requiting love with neglect, — better hate. — 
Oh, unnatural tie, when virtue is allied 
By love, to aught so base as Pride! 

The likeness of that lovely cove 

Warmed with tin 4 painter's soul of love, 
Alive with summer's gorgeous hues, 
And sparkling with the morning dews, 
Beneath an auction hammer sold, 

(roes up to the halls of a father proud : 
And a daughter's suitor chosen for his gold 

Deigns to speak his heartless praise aloud : 
"In summer that must surely be a nice retreat, 
"The city is so tedious with its dust and heat!" 



STORY OF A DEW DROP. 

In a hare-bell cup, at the break of day. 
Sparkling and bright a dew-drop lay. 

When ruddy morn the easl o'erspread, 
The dew-drop caught the rays it shed, 

And blending with them the floweret's blue 
It rivaled the gem with its delicate hue. 

But the sun, when he rose, was wroth to - 
A dew-drop could shine more brightly than he 

So he sent down a beam to the hare-bell cup, 

And drank the drop in its beauty up. 

And such is the law in nature's plan : 
Subject to it is the fate of man. 

Life is the dew in the hare-bell cup, 

And death the beam that shall drink it up. 

Bowdoin College, April, I8f>9. 



THE SKA. 

O, ceaseless, surging Sea, 
Pathless, impressionless, type of eternity! 
Nor time, nor change has left a trace, 
A single furrow on thy face. 
The solid earth is seamed with sears, 
Deep-graven records of her wars ; 
And tells in fissured rock ami chasm 
I low many a fearful shock ami spasm 
The ancient sphere has shaken! 

Bui thou, oli Sea, 
When awful memories waken. 
In solemn stillness of the night, 
Canst slumber childlike in the light 
Of the desolate moon and silent stars! 
Hadst thou a brooding soul, oh Sea, 
Then wert thou of remorse ne'er free; 
Were souls remorseless half, as thou art. 
How many a pang were saved and bleeding 
heart ! 

Packet, "S. Curling,'' from Boston to Liverpool, Septem- 
ber. 1861. 



ON LOCH KATRINE. 

With bracken In-own and purple heather 
Clan Alpine's ancient hills are drest, 
While o'er the clouds in perfect weather 
Ben Lomond lifts his airy crest. 

Hut not a ripple stirs the tide 

Of Loch Katrines the queenly lake. 

As o'er its silvery face we glide, 

Save those the highland oarsmen make. 

The ruined sides of Ben Venue 

Are steep and rugged :is of yore, 

When brave Fitz-James and Roderick Dim 
Contended on yon rocky shore. 

And Ellen's Lie, romantic spot, 
A fit retreat for outlawed earl, 
Is no less famed for Walter Scott 
Than for the Douglas' lovely girl. 

The autumn evening lingering low. 
Now hastens, ere the sun is set. 
To fling its last expiring glow 
Around each rockv minaret. 



22 ox LOCH KATBINE. 

That from the bristling Trosachs towers, 
Suggestive of that earlier age 
When fierce the grim Titanic powers 
Their elemental wars did wage. 

But as we near the flinty strand 
Where still Loch Katrine's waters lave, 
The sentry cliffs, that silent stand 
And guard the Goblin's ancient cave, 

Each rock and hill and mountain bold. 
Beneath our feet reflected lies; 
And, crowned with evening's virgin gold, 
Doth dazzle our admiring eyes. 

No siren sings upon the cliff, 
And yet in transport must we gaze 
As gazed the boatman from his skiff 
To see the Lurlei's mantle blaze. 

So sweet in sleep was never dream 
As was our waking dream that day; 
Oh, was it, pray, a bright foregleam 
Of life that shall endure alway? 

Stirling, Scotland. October. 1861. 



TO MY COUNTRYMEN. 

Strike home ! ye patriot hearts, your cause is just, 

No tyrant's banners lead you to the field ; 
For freedom and your brave forefathers' dust, 

Will ye to knaves such blood-bought treasures 
yield? 
Strike home ! not for ourselves alone the fight, 

Each blow you deal clanks on oppression's chains : 
For all the world, for universal right — 

Each drop is gold that flows from your free veins. 

It is a fearful drama which you play, 

And anxious Europe on the issue wait- : 
Her peoples hearts are with our cause to-day. 

For there are written, too, their future fates. 
What wonder, then, her tyrants madly frown. 

When victory our starry banner spreads : 
Who forge the chains to bind God's image down 

Well know the wrath that hovers o'er their heads. 

America — where liberty was born. 

The North and South united as her fane — 
Shall future monarchs live to tell in scorn, 

How blood and treasure shielded her in vain i 
Ah ! no, by all that freemen's hearts hold dear, 

Our fire-sides and the name of Washixgtox ! 
Strike home ! again our glorious standard rear 

O'er this proud brotherhood, forever one. 

Heidelberg, German v. May, 18(12. 



EVENING IN THE PAYS DE VAUD. 

O'er Jura's craggy peaks aglow, 
The gorgeous sunlight lingers ; 

In deep crevasse 'mid Alpine snow 
It dips its rosy fingers. 

Along Lake Leman's vine-girt shore 

Is mild and balmy weather, 
While overhead on ledges hoar 
Eternal icebergs gather. 

And where the avalanches creep 

From off the cloud-toucht mountains. 

The azure Rhone, o'er rock and steep, 
Comes dashing from its fountains. 

But now the ebon veil descends. 

And night enshrouds the valley, 
Save where its light the glow worm lends 

In Avail or trellised alley. 

L hear the plover's plaintive note, 

The murmur of the billows ; 
And Philomel's sweet ditties float 

From out the sighing willows. 



EVENING IN THE PAYS BE VAUD. 25 

Anon sweet music fills the air 

From many a garden bower 
Where rustic swains and maids repair 

To spend this charmed hour. 

How like a vision all things seem 
Beyond this vale of shadows ; 

E'en as I muse, the young day's beam 
Lights up my native meadows. 

And thus, alas, it is with all, 

'Tis distant and uncertain 
If once or time, or space let fall 

Twixt us and it the curtain. 

The home that's left, the life that's o'er. 
The friend that death has taken, 

In dreamy hours return once more. 
But never if we waken. 

Vevay, Switzerland, June. 1862. 



IX THE CHAMPS ELYSEES. 

Her blithe voice quivers through the song, 
Her light foot trembles on the stage, 
While the motley, gay and unkempt throng 
Encore unceasing in their rage of ecstasy. 
But when the curtain a third time fell. 
All tremulous and pale with toil 
She broke away as from a spell ; 
And as their plaudits rose the while, unscc 

of living eye. 
In breathless haste she took her way 
To where the sluggish river lay 
bike a serpent, basking in the light 
Of the inirky, moon deserted night. 

And when she stood upon tin 4 bank 
And heard the slow tide's breathing. 
Her heart in hopeless sorrow sank, 
And she felt herself the wasted thing- 
She was, whose soul's best treasure 
Was squandered to the guilty pleasure 
Of one who loved her not. 
And as she stood beside the river 
Almost motionless and ever 
Emitting: from its sliniv breast 



JX THE CHAMPS ELY SEES. 2 

The odor of a noisome pest. 
She sank upon the spot ; 
And dim before her wildered vision. 
She saw the world in proud derision 
In the Champs Elysees point her out : 
And withered, tottering with age. 
She still was singing on the stage ; 
Hut for her plaudits rose a shout 
Of scorn, and she awoke again 
From out that half prophetic swoon 
To feel her limbs benumbed with pain. 

And wish that one eternal SWOOn 

Her blighted life might be. 

The hollow, vague and far-off sounding roar 

Of the river, as from some distant shore. 

Beyond the bourn of this cold sphere 

Called her with fascination drear. 

And she was left no choice but follow. 

And the people, the boors and rabble rout. 

And gay grisettes whose merry shout 

Made bright her gala night, 

Go down with transient tears of sorrow 

To the charnel Morgue, on the grim morrow. 

To look upon their favorite. 

DIRGE, 

The flower was blighted in thy breath, 
O, ardent love of noon ; 



28 ix THE CHAMPS ELYSEES. 

And dew drops moistened, it drooped in death 

Under thy light, pale moon! 

Its sweet fragrance was fle<l 

Like the souls of the dead ; 
O, Earth, why claim'st thou thine own so 



A saintly thing is a sinless soul, — 

Suspioionless of guile; 
In Notre Dame with solemn knoll 1 

Peals the minster bell the while ; 

With funeral knoll, 

Pray let it toll, 
As the mourners move down the hollow aisle. 

The world is rigid in rules of right. 

Though apt itself to wrong; 
In judging the weak it takes delight. 

But bows the knee to the strong.. 

Rest, lost one, rest 

In the dark grave's breast ; 
Justice in giving its dues is long. 

Paris. September, 1862. 



STANZAS SUGGESTED BY THE WAR. 

September. 1864. 

The night- grow longer as the week- go by, 
And now her reign begins the harvest moon : 

In dreamy haze the sunlight swims by noon. 
And all the distant hill> seem doubly high. 

The forest leave- have breathed the young frost's 

breath, 
And rustle in the dreary wind- of fall: 
Ripe f<>r tin- reaper's hand the broad fields all, — 
Tie- gray old year i- hastening t.» it- death. 

The rose-cheeked apples wear a mellower tinge; 
Prom bursting husks the golden maize ears gleam, 
And in gay semblance of the spring time seem 
The trees, festooned with autumn's fiery frii 

Nay, let the earth these tawdry vestments wear, 
The mournful harbingers of meet decay : 
Death claims a nobler sacrifice to-day 
Than crowns the altar of the dying year. 

Ere long when wind- have -wept the brown fields 

bare, 
And play strange antics with the leafless limbs, 



30 STANZAS SUGGESTED BY THE WAR. 

The longed for peace will chant its matin hymns. 
An empty peace whose voidness is despair. 

All, then shall wearied nature take its rest; 
The aching atoms worn with ceaseless strife 
Shall quit the nerveless grasp of wasted life, 
To swell the mould in earth's insensate breast. 

But why complain if brief the season seem ? 
This fever flush betokening decay 

Is hut the prelude of that better day 

The earth shall waken from its wintry dream. 

Thou, too, oh man, in endless toil must tire; 
The buoyant hopes of youth sink low with age; 
Worn out at length with life's turmoil and rage, 
Thon'lt yield to death as stubble yields to fire. 

There's little solace in the heartless vaunt 
That for an end benign is war decreed, 
That else in time the earth would fail to feed 
Its populations vast, and come to want. 

The public weal holds single lives f nil cheap, 
And nations plethoric with plenty grown 
Are soonest with the seeds of discord sown ; 
The fields drink blood while maids and mothers 
wee]). 



BEST. 31 

In life's philosophy there's little balm 

To sooth the pain the timid spirit fills ; 

His soul tastes joy supreme whom valor thrills : 

Tis only cravens shrink from fancied harm. 

Then boom the gun, the drummer beat reveittt ; 

The screaming shot, the madly shrieking shell 
What though to myriads they sound the knell- 
While war endures, life's fount will never fail ! 



-^t&ZG&SF* 



REST. 

Oh, what is rest? 
Hope long deferred, by daily promise fed, 

Doth make my spirit tire! 
As years go by, I joy to see them sped. 

In eagerness of my desire 
For rest, I long to lie among the quiet dead, 

Beneath the pall of green that wraps each monnd 

In yonder silent burial ground ! 



32 BEST. 

Yet, what is rest ? 
That blissful rest which we so much do crave, 

And fain would find within the hollow grave ? 
I've watched an eagle float on moveless wing 

Beneath the zenith all one afternoon, 
And glide about as 'twere an easy thing 

To wait in air and perch upon the moon. 

He seemed at rest. 
Vet 1 have somewhere heard 

That only unremitting toil could stay 
The pinions of the bird, 

And keep him safe upon his dizzy way; 
And that 'twas when he most did seem at rest. 
That every sinew of his noble breast 

Was strained to all its utmost strength would 
bear. 

To buoy him upward on the yielding air. 

Still, what is rest ? 
Why further strive, a simple truth to learn, 

When all the earth doth the same lesson teach ? 
Wilt thou unto the elements but turn, 

They will admonish thee, though 'reft of speech, 

That rest, the same for which thy soul doth yearn, 

Is found where strength and will harmonious 

blend, 
And work together for a common end. 



OUR DEAD. 

Memorial Sonnet* ead at thi Triennial Meeting 

of the Class of 1861, Bowdoin College, 

August, 1864. 



OUR DEAD. 35 



NELSON PERLEY CRAM. 

Soft be his Bleep beneath the waving pines, 
And zephyrs hush his wearied soul to rest ; 
Sweet is their wail that whispers he is blest, 
Freed from the strife at which this life repines. 

L.x-kcd in the future's lap are its designs 
For all who venture its uncertain wave ; 
Who bravely meets its certain goal, the grave,— 
Around his brow the crown of valor shines. 

He's paid the debt of all of mother horn. 
Gone in the promise of his life's young morn, 
To join the throng whose earthly work is done. 

Fresh as the flowers that deck lii< early tomb, 
In our sad hearts his memory shall bloom. 
Till like his own our mortal race i< run. 



:> >tf OUR BEAD. 



SAMUEL FESSENDEN. 

Ah ! speechless soul where deepest sinks regret, 

The heart that feels is quietest in grief; 
Nor in bland words would craven find relief, 
But loves the woe it can ne'er more forget. 

So in our hearts is silent sorrow yet, 
Nor words essay its burden to relieve; 
With arid eyes and stoic lips we grieve 
Beside the grave we have not tears to wet. 

Three years ago we stood together side 
By side, and now lie's sleeping by the sea ; 
It ebbs and flows, its ceaseless, careless tide. 

Ne'er manhood graced a manlier form, 

A dearer friend ne'er walked the earth than he. 

Alas! the young oak's blasted by the storm. 



OUR DEAL. 



JOHN RICH. 

The great, unfeeling world, with crash and din. 
Moves down the tide of swift revolving years; 
Around the vortex of to-day careers, 
The next forgets that yesterday has been. 

Intent on that they've set their hearts to win, 
Men blindly dash toward the goal of gain ; 
Nor know, nor feel they for a brother's pain, 
But hush tin* sympathy that pleads within. 

To make our marks upon the shifting sands 
We came with aspirations fixed and high; 
Intent on lifting self were brain and hands. 

lie walked beside us there, hut ne'er bespoke 
Amid his hopes and fears our sympathy, 
And we ne'er knew Ins heart until it broke. 



38 OUR DEAD. 



WILLIAM WILSON MORRELL. 

And .sealed in death are those dear lips for aye 
Which pleaded for us at the throne of grace ; 
What heavenly trust lit up his manly face 
Upon that last, that gone reunion day! 

We all declared 'twas good to hear him pray ; 
Bold in his words stood out the sonl sincere ; 
In awe we bowed and owned (4od ? s presence 

near, 
E'en though unused to walk in Godly way. 

Alas ! what changes bring the tickle years; 

He rests in peace upon that gory field 

Still quaking with a nation's hopes and fears. 

Farewell thou valiant heart, thy work is done ; 
The sword of right, the mightiest thou didst 

wield, — 
The meed nil just, the hero's grave thoirst won. 



TRANSLATIONS. 



DOWN YONDER IN THE MILL. 

[FROM THE GERMAN OF JL STIXUS KEENER.] 

Down yonder in the mill 

In sweet repose I lay, 
And saw the wheel go round, 

And saw the waters play; 

Beheld the saw so bright ; 

To me 'twas like a dream, 
As in the fir-tree's trunk 

It cut its narrow seam. 

The fir it seemed to live ; 

And, to the saw's rough stroke. 
While all its fibres rung, 

These were the words it spoke : 

"Thou com'st in goodly time, 

() wanderer, in here ; 
Thou art for whom the wound 
My heart hath pressed so near. 

"Thou art for whom shall be, 

When short thou'st wandered here. 

This wood in earth's cold lap 
An everlasting bier." 

Four boards ! I saw them fall ; 

My so\d grew heavy then ; 
A word I fain had said, — 

The wheel turned ne'er again ! 



THE LORELEY* 

[FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINE.] 

I know not what the cause may be 

Such heaviness hath wrought, — 
A legend of the olden time 

That never goes from thought ; 
The air is chill, and it darkens. 

In quiet flows the Rhine, 
And the mountain top, it sparkles 

In evening's gold sunshine. 

The beauteous lady is seated 

Yonder, so wondrous fair ; 
Her golden mantle glitters. 

She combs her golden hair; 
She combs it with golden comb, 

And a wondrous ditty sings: 
With echoing of her melody. 

Bach cliff and valley rings. 

The boatman in his tiny craft, 
Is seized with wildest woe ; 
Entranced lie only looks on high, 

Nor sees the frowning rocks helow. 

I believe the waves, at last. 
The heedless man will drown. 

And this, with her sweet singing. 
The Lorelev has done ! 



•Pronounced Loralp. 



SONG OF THE YOUNG MOUNTAINEER. 

[FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND.] 

I am the mountain shepherd boy, 
The castles all below me lie ; 
The morning sun beams first up here. 
And longest too the day is near ; 
O, I'm the youthful mountaineer. 

"Tig here the river has its birth, 

I drink it fresh from stone and earth ; 

It roars from cliff with wild alarms, 

I clasp it here in my two arms ; 

(), I'm the youthful mountaineer. 

The mountain is my proper sphere, 
The storms they rage about me here; 
From north and south the tempests spring, 
Above them rise the songs I sing ; 
(), I'm the youthful mountaineer. 

Are lightnings darting under me, 
Here in clear air their sport I see ; 
[ know them well, and thus I cry ; 
My father's house in peace pass by ; 
O, I'm the youthful mountaineer. 

And when alarm-bells once may sound, 
And watch-fires glow on mountains round, 
I go below, I join the throng, 
And swing my sword and sing my song ; 
O, I'm the youthful mountaineer. 



THE RESOLVE. 

[paraphrased from uhland.] 

She's coming through the quiet glade : — 
To-day Fll loose my timid tongue ; 
Why should I fear before the maid 
Whom, for my life, I would not wrong? 

To greet her, all so ready are ! 
But I, poor fool, pass sheepish by ; 
And to my heaven's cherished star 
Have not yet dared to lift an eye. 

The flowers that bloom about her feet. 
The birds with carols soft and sweet, 
All dare for her their love confess ; 
Then surely I should do no less, 

1*11 lay me down by yonder stream. 
Where oft the maiden passes by. 
And talk, as 'twere, in dulcet dream, 
Of her 1 love, unconsciously. 

I will — ah, woe is me, what fright! 
There, there she comes! where shall I fly! 
Behind this tree I'm out of sight, — 
She heeds me not, but passes by. 



A REMINISCENCE. 

From out the dim, almost forgotten past. 
One scene, unbid, will oft to mind recur ; 
How fondly in affection's shrine they last, — 
The sad, sweel memories of the things that were! 

ft was the qniet of a Sabbath day. 
And lonesome grass-fields nodded in the breeze : 
The spreading farms in summer sunshine lay, 
And rests of verdure clothed the forest trees. 

The tired cattle sought the thicket'- shade ; 
The woodland rill went rippling on it- way, — 
While feathered songsters warbled in the glade, 
And silent swallows chased their insect prey. 

A motley throng stand round the farm-house door, 
Or move about with slow and cautious tread; 
Young men and boys, ami sires whose heads are 

hoar. 
Have met in tearful tribute to the dead. 

When erst the roses in the warm May air 
Put forth their tender blossoms to the light, 
The fairest flower that bloomed would ill compare 
With her who lietli now in death-shroud white. 



46 A REMINISCENCE. 

The red-rose tint was on her cheek so fair, 
Her dark eyes tender as the dewy morn, — 
While night itself was mirrored in the hair 
She chose the timid snow-drop to adorn. 

The mother's idol and the father's pride, 
The reigning queen of each successive May, 
Her sovereignty by rival ne'er denied, — 
She ruled her realm of love with easy sway. 

What wonder then that gallants, by the score, 

On bended knee for heart and hand should sue ? 

i 

Both young and old such charms might well adore; 
Who loved her not her graces never knew. 

But death delights with choicest flowers to All 
His cypress wreath to crown the circling years ; 
And vain to stay his hand is human skill, 
Or prayers, or threats, or mourners' bitter tears. 



The funeral rites were simple, brief and sad ; 
Too young the preacher's words to recollect, 
I've learned that for the friends good cheer he had ; 
Though most abused, his was no gloomy sect. 

But not of dogmas dry would I discourse, 
In this my simple retrospective lay, 






A REMINISCENCE. *? 

But turn again to view the sable hearse 
As down the lane it slowly takes its way. 

Beside the grave the dumb procession stand-. 
And weeping mourners take their last farewell : 
The stricken mother wrings her aged hands, 

And tear- are vain her agony to tell. 

Well might'st thou weep, could weeping life re- 

But nought shall rend from death the envied prize : 
That silvery voice shall greet thine ear no more. 
No m<>re on thine shall beam those beauteous eyes! 

The coffin sink- in the relentless ground, 
That shall restore it- precious gift no more; 
The falling earth -end- up a muffled sound, 

The grave i- closed, and with it all i- <>Vr! 

Ah no, not o'er! exclaim all reasoning men. 
With emphasis that sounds the centuries through, 
Except some timid spirits, now and then. 
Wh<> d<»ul>t if life it-elf i- really true. 

Death is not Lord ! where heaven's best gifts arc 

lost, 
I- here in this frail life we live below : 
Ah. fortunate, whom cares have tempest-t >st, 
Possessing .ill unsullied, hence may _ . 



+8 A REMINISCENCE. 

If souls are pure, 'tis only flesh can die ; 
And grace and beauty thrown about us here. 
Are seamless mantles, from the wardrobe high. 
To deck the soul for its celestial sphere. 

Then let u> not forget, as oft we turn 
The lingering memories of the past to con. 
That still the dead, for whom our spirits yearn, 
In ways that win as most, are living on. 



